


The Promise

by roqueamadi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Canon, Rare Pairs FTW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/pseuds/roqueamadi
Summary: Post-canon. After the wars, Jaime left on a mission to bring his sister to justice. He never returned.Before he left, he made Brienne, his wife, and Bronn, his best friend, promise that if anything happened to him, they would look after each other. A year later, Bronn returns to Tarth to fulfil his promise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta [sarcasm_for_free](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_for_free/pseuds/sarcasm_for_free) for all the help with this :)

Brienne jolted awake, the pain in her arm spiking for a moment before she stilled it.

She sat up a little straighter in the chair. The only movement in her dark room was the small fire in the grate, but in the hallway outside she could hear a commotion. Running footsteps. Some men yelling, and a crash.

She reached for her sword just as the door burst open.

He stumbled in, shoving off the castellan. Leather jerkin, sword at his hip, travelling cloak, dirty scruffy face. It was Bronn.

Brienne sat her sword back against the wall and he squinted through the darkness at her.

“Lady Brienne,” he greeted, brushing down his tunic and kicking the door closed.

“Ser Bronn,” she said stiffly, slumping back in her chair again. “My castellan was instructed to allow no visitors,” she growled.

“Aye, I gathered that,” he replied flatly. He hesitated a moment, looking around the room, then strode across to the window.

“Don’t-” she started, but he threw open the drapes anyway. Sunlight streamed into the dusty room and Brienne shielded her eyes, groaning.

“That’s better,” Bronn said, satisfied, completely ignoring her complaints.

“My lady…” the pale castellan inched the door open again slightly, watching Bronn warily, “my lady, I will send more guards to remove him…”

“It's alright, he's a friend,” Brienne snapped, waving the simpering man away. He closed the door quickly and she looked back at Bronn.

“Why are you here?” she growled as he unclipped his sword belt and seated himself across from her without invitation.

“I’m here to keep my promise.”

Brienne squeezed her eyes shut. She’d been expecting that, but it didn't mean she was happy to hear it. She scowled. “I release you from any such promise. It was a silly thing for him to ask, and besides, he may yet return.”

Bronn paused. “Brienne,” he said gently, frowning, “it’s been a full year. Chances are he’s not coming back.”

Brienne firmed her chin and stared him down. “You’re welcome to stay as my guest, of course, but you’re under no obligation to protect me, or whatever the stupid promise was.”

“It was more than that, as you well remember,” Bronn said suggestively, and Brienne rolled her eyes. “But I’ll take up that offer for starters. Thank you.”

He sat back in the chair, relaxed, to study her more thoroughly. “Tarth is looking good,” he said finally.

“It is well staffed,” she said evasively.

“I see.” He paused. “What happened to your arm?”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably. “A knifeman. He broke into my quarters while I was sleeping. I killed him.”

“He got a shot in first, though.”

“I was asleep.”

“Your guards asleep, too?”

Brienne scowled. “Tarth does not have such lavish resources. Men are needed for more important things than standing watch over my bedchambers.”

Bronn scoffed at that. “Aye, more important than the life of their lady ruler?”

“Yes, actually. My lord husband's son and heir.”

Bronn’s eyes widened. “Son?” he blinked. “How - when?”

“Six months now.”

Bronn nodded slowly. “You look well, if I may say so. I wouldn’t have known you’d been with child.”

Brienne shrugged. “I have been training. Until this,” she indicated her arm.

Bronn ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there’s something I can do at least.”

Brienne huffed. “What, you’re going to stand guard at my door every night?”

“Aye.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Bronn frowned. “I made a promise to Jaime-”

 _“Alright,_ alright,” Brienne cut him off. She’d rather not hear the name at all. “Do what you want, I don’t care.”

“I will.”

“Very well.”

There was a soft knock at the door. “Milady?” It was Sara. Brienne squeezed her eyes shut and repressed a sigh.

“Come.”

The door opened and a maid came in with a baby held up in her arms. Jaime’s son. Bronn turned and got to his feet. Brienne was surprised to see his face light up.

“Is this him?” he asked, his voice instantly softer and lighter.

“Er, Sara, this is Ser Bronn, an - old friend. He’ll be our guest for a while.”

“Yes, milady.”

And Brienne watched in shock as Bronn said, “Can I hold him?” and held his arms out.

Sara glanced at Brienne for a moment, and she nodded stiffly. Sara passed the boy to Bronn. Bronn took him expertly, quickly tugging his glove off with his teeth and letting the baby wrap his tiny fingers around Bronn’s index finger, rocking him gently.

“Hello, little man,” he said in that gentle voice. “He’s the very spit of Jaime,” he shot over at Brienne, who swallowed hard and clenched her jaw. He ran a hand over the boy’s already thick golden hair, and the boy smiled at him.

“There’s a smile for me,” Bronn praised. He looked up at Brienne again. “What’d you call him?”

Brienne looked away, feeling her face flushing red. She was immensely glad when Sara spoke up for her.

“Milady hasn’t decided on a name, yet,” the girl said delicately. “She prefers to wait for her Lord Husband to return so she can discuss it with him.”

Bronn was staring at her.

The baby started to fuss. Sara took him back and made a quiet exit from the room. Bronn didn’t take his seat again. He folded his arms and stared Brienne down.

“What?” she muttered, uncomfortable.

“Where I come from,” Bronn started, all the lightness gone from his voice, “people sometimes have babies they don’t want. Kids are lucky to survive there. They get left in the gutter. The last time I encountered a child who wasn’t named, it was there.”

“You heard what Sara said.”

“Brienne,” Bronn said sharply, and took a breath, clearly trying to control himself. “What the fuck are you doing, love? What do you think Jaime would say if he walked through that door right now, which isn’t going to happen, by the way. He’d kick _me_ in the balls, that’s for sure.”

Brienne was on her feet without even realising she’d moved. “Who do you think you are,” she said, deadly quiet, “to burst in here after months and months and start telling me what to do?”

Bronn straightened. “I was Jaime’s friend, and yours too, I might add.”

“And because of that you think you can just turn up _now_ and - what? Where have you been the last six months?”

“I waited for an invitation,” Bronn growled. “It never came. I think I would have been waiting a long time.”

“You expected me to write you and ask you to _what_ \- come and save me from my solitude? Because I surely couldn’t be without a _man_ to protect me-”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Bronn snapped back. “You know that’s not what Jaime-”

“ _Stop saying his name!_ ” Brienne yelled.

“He was my friend too and I’ll say his name all I want. What, you think if no one says it then you can forget he ever existed and go happily on your way? Jaime, Jaime, Jaime, Jaime-”

Brienne hit him - not quite properly, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do that, but it was a hard shove. They scuffled for a moment until she cried out when he hit her injured arm. He grasped her wrists unapologetically and stood firm, his face close to hers.

“Now, either you or me are going to go right now and tell that maid what your son’s name is.”

“He doesn't have a name.”

“He does. You know what it is.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “You… you won’t.”

“Either you will or I will. I’m giving you the choice.”

“You have no power to command me.”

“No. But the Brienne I knew would recognise the right thing to do. And whoever you are, I’m holding you to _her_ command.”

Brienne stared him down for several more seconds before she shoved him away and stalked across to the door. When she wrenched it open, another maid was waiting nervously outside, as they often did.

“Please find Ser Bronn some appropriate quarters and treat him as our honoured guest,” she said in a voice that would be more appropriate for ordering his execution.

“Yes, milady.”

“And send Sara back in here.”

“Yes, milady.”

Bronn stuck his thumbs in his belt and strolled past her through the doorway.

“Much appreciated, my lady,” he said, nodding to her.

Brienne slammed the door in his face.

 

Brienne was settling into bed that night when she heard the clink and footstep of someone outside her door and she sighed loudly in annoyance. She threw the covers back and got up, grabbing a candle with her as she crossed to the door and threw it open onto Bronn’s back.

He turned to her slowly, unconcerned, looking well set-up for the night with his thumbs hooked in his sword belt and a wineskin and some bread and cheese in a basket against the wall.

“Evening,” he said, and she noticed his eyes flick down her frame, not exactly well-concealed in her nightgown. After a husband and a baby Brienne no longer cared who saw what part of her.

“You’re really going to do this?” she said flatly.

“Aye. Even took a nap this afternoon in preparation,” he said with a smirk. Brienne sighed in resignation and started to turn back.

“Heard you followed my advice,” he said before she could disappear back into her room.

“Is ‘advice’ what you would call it?” Brienne muttered. Bronn ignored her.

“Little Jaime is a fine young fellow,” he said blithely.

He smiled and Brienne returned a blank stare. “Is this your intention? To stand around and tell me what to do the rest of my days?”

“If I think you’re being daft, sweetheart, then yes.”

Brienne dragged a hand down her face.

“I’m locking the door.”

“You do that.”

She slammed it in his face again and stomped back to her bed.

 

Brienne tried to sleep, but like usual, it was completely hopeless. She lay staring at the canvas and listening to the occasional clink of Bronn’s swordbelt as he shifted around outside her door. She wanted to yell at him to fuck off.

He hadn’t made things any easier for her. Naming the boy Jaime felt like an admission that her husband was never coming back to her. Once again, she cursed him over and over for being so determined to undertake that mission alone. _She's my sister,_ he'd said, _I have to be the one to bring her to justice._ Brienne sometimes even wondered if Jaime had changed his mind about that after all and was simply living across the narrow sea happily with his first lover, with Brienne completely forgotten. She tried hard to keep silent but it wasn’t long before tears were leaking down her cheeks. Same as most nights.

She pressed the pillow over her face, blocking out all sight and sound.

 _Jaime_.

She missed him so bad, it physically hurt. And she didn’t think she would ever get over it. And it made her angry at him, that he had to come into her life and do that to her, ruin her for the rest of her days. She hated him. And she loved him. And she wasn’t going to survive this.

“Brienne.”

She jolted when a warm hand landed on her shoulder and she lifted the pillow off her head. The mattress depressed as Bronn sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

“How did you get in?” she said in a thick snotty voice, shifting and sitting up, and he tossed a keychain of lockpicks onto her bedside table. She sighed.

“Is this because of me?” he asked, indicating her tears. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“What do you think?” she growled - tried to growl - shoving him ineffectually.

“You miss him.”

For some reason, Bronn saying those words was enough to make her tear up again, but he didn’t panic and quickly try to change the subject or distract her the way everyone on Tarth did. He just nodded, and didn’t look away from her. “I miss him too.”

This made Brienne break down even more, bringing her hands to her face. She felt his hand on her shoulder again, and before she even knew what she was doing she leaned forward and he put his arms around her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. She cried, and she didn’t think the entire time since Jaime left and since her hope slowly faded that anyone had done this for her. It felt like something was breaking inside her and she didn’t think she’d ever cried so hard in her life, but Bronn didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t try to move, or give her advice, or say anything at all. He just sat there and held her.

When she started to calm, he pulled her back a little with his hands on her shoulders, looking into her blotchy swollen face, and said, “If Jaime were here now, and he could see you like this, his ego would be so fucking puffed up it would be completely unbearable.”

And Brienne laughed in spite of herself.

Bronn produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. He got to his feet. “Will you be alright? I’ll be just outside.”

“Bronn-” she stopped him. She surprised herself. But she didn’t want to go back to lying alone in the dark. “Can you stay?”

He smiled. “Course I can.”

Brienne shifted over on the mattress. Bronn kicked his boots off and sat against the headboard beside her, his sword over his lap.

He glanced down at her. “You know, I can do more than just stay if you like…”

Brienne shoved him and he relented with a good-natured grin. He picked up the closest book on the bedside table, and immediately became, to all appearances, completely absorbed in it. Brienne lay watching him in the candlelight, and wondered when was the last time she’d laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird pairing, I know, but I just wanted to try it. Let me know what you think. And please don't hate me for offing Jaime, I already feel like I have somehow personally betrayed him by writing this ;( lol


	2. Chapter 2

The maid woke her. Brienne opened her eyes and was momentarily disoriented until the drapes were pulled open and pale light filled the room.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily.

“Seven, milady.”

Brienne groaned. “I thought I told you not to wake me before ten.”

“Ser Bronn sent me, milady.”

“You take orders from him now?”

The maid frowned. “He said he is here on authority of Lord Jaime, milady. Is that not true?”

Brienne sighed and stretched. “...It is true.”

The thing was, she didn’t feel terrible like normal when she woke up. She felt like she had slept well, and didn’t remember waking since Bronn sat down next to her. Bronn… She ran her hand over the bedding to her right and it still felt a little warm, so he couldn’t have been gone long.

She picked at some breakfast and dressed and went to see if any matters needed tending to. She went first to the castellan’s study, then found the head of household staff, and was just wondering if she ought to check in at the stables to see if the farrier had recovered from his illness, when she paused halfway down a hallway and heard the sounds of a happy baby and a soft voice.

The nursery was around the corner. She rarely visited it, but she could make out Bronn’s voice talking softly and playfully to Jaime’s son, and she stepped tentatively over to the doorway.

The ex-sellsword and hardened knight was seated on the floor of the nursery with the baby, dancing a soft toy in front of him while his chubby hands reached out to try to grab it. He glanced up when Brienne’s frame darkened the doorway.

“He’s smart for his age,” he said, and Brienne was bewildered by the note of pride in Bronn’s voice. “He’s going to be tall too. No surprise there.”

The baby latched his hand onto Bronn’s finger again and Bronn grinned. “You’ll have a sword in that hand before too long, won’t you? Won’t you?”

Brienne screwed up her face at him. “How are you good at this?”

“What?” Bronn asked, looking back at her.

Brienne waved a hand helplessly at them. “At… this. You seem to know what to do.”

Bronn shrugged. “I’ve had an exciting life,” he said vaguely.

“Are you a father?” Brienne asked suddenly, surprised that she’d never even considered that.

“Not that I know of,” he winked.

She scowled. “Then how? Because I…”

Bronn frowned up at her as she trailed off, then his attention was diverted back to the baby as he started to grumble. Bronn picked him up and got to his feet, setting him against his broad shoulder, and Brienne wondered if Jaime would have held him so easily, so naturally, like that, and suddenly she wanted to leave.

“Wait, love,” Bronn said as Brienne took a step back. The baby settled down and Bronn returned his attention to her. “I had younger siblings, that’s all. There’s nothing magic about it.”

“I never even held a baby before I had him,” Brienne almost whispered, and Bronn’s eyes softened a little.

“Want to hold him now?”

“No.”

“Come on, I can teach you some tricks-” Bronn started to pass the baby towards her and Brienne backed off several paces until she hit the opposite wall. Bronn stared at her. Brienne turned and fled.

 

She only got as far as the nearest exit and had flung the door open when-

“Brienne!”

She gritted her teeth and paused with the cold air rushing in from outside over her hot face. Bronn must have passed the baby back to the maid because he ran to catch up with her.

“So you’re angry you don’t know how to do it, and yet you don’t even wanna learn?” Bronn said, with a note of incredulity.

“Oh yes, a _mother_ learning how to hold her own baby from an ex-sellsword. There should be a song about that.”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see, so it’s a pride thing. What could the great Brienne of Tarth _possibly_ have to learn from a disgusting old gutter rat like me?”

“It’s not pride,” Brienne said fiercely, taking a menacing step closer to him.

“Fear, then,” Bronn said, completely unconcerned.

“I’m - I’m not _scared-”_

“Well you look fucking terrified,” Bronn said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a wight instead of a baby,” he added with a note of laughter and Brienne shoved him, pushing his shoulder back in an almost-strike, and once again they scuffled for a moment until she got a hand on his face and pushed, tilting his neck backwards enough that he relented and took a step back, still grinning.

Brienne stared at him, breathing hard, and she didn’t know why but scuffling with Bronn almost made her feel slightly _better._ She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. “It’s not that I’m afraid,” she gritted out. “It’s just that I never agreed to this.”

“To what?”

_“This,”_ she exclaimed, sweeping her arm around. “All of this. I never agreed to do _this_ without him. This having a baby and looking after a keep and… I _never_ wanted this.”

“And what’s so bad about this, might I ask?”

“It’s not me.”

“You act like it’s a life sentence, or like you don’t have any control over it. You’re the Lady of Tarth _and_ Casterley Rock, why the fuck are you sitting around in a dark room wallowing in your misery?” At her face, he cut off, an expression of apology flicking across his face.

“Brienne…”

She stormed off.

 

Brienne spent the rest of the day cutting a sapling to pieces with her sword in her left hand, trying to preserve her injured right arm but in the process giving her too many memories to make it really worthwhile. When the sun set she was still feeling just as pent up and enraged as when she started, so she wasn’t even particularly annoyed when the castellan, puffing hard and out of breath, found her in the armoury to tell her with panic that a rowboat of men had snuck onto the island and he believed they were more assassins sent to kill her.

“Good,” she said. She ripped the bandage off her right arm to free it up, the wound be damned, and drew her sword. She threw her scabbard on the ground and told the man to point her in the right direction.

She ran towards the southern beach, alone, in the darkness. She didn’t even have her armour on. She didn’t care. She met the first man with a roar and sliced him clean in half. It was starting to rain and it was hard to see, but she soon realised that there was certainly more than one boatload of men. She thought some of them were wearing Lannister red.

Her only thought on the matter was that she wished they would put up more of a fight.

After several minutes, some of her men-at-arms hurried to join her, Bronn included, but she thought they almost needn’t have bothered. She was perfectly fine on her own.

However, there _were_ a lot of attackers.

No one questioned her now - not anymore - about fighting. None of her own men, anyway. She wondered what Jaime would have thought if he could see her now. She wondered if he would have expected her to stop fighting once she had a child. They hadn’t had enough time together for her to find out.

She saw Bronn nearby take down a man with a dagger straight through his throat. She wondered if he would berate her for this later. She felt like she would probably hit him if he did, and she wouldn’t hold back this time.

Out of nowhere, a fist connected with the back of her head. She hadn’t seen the man approach from behind her. As she stumbled sideways, a sword nicked her arm, reopening her wound, and she yelled out. Bronn was there a second later, shouldering her aside, his sword going straight through the man’s stomach. She stumbled to one knee as he turned and slashed the other man, blood spraying over his face.

Brienne lifted her left hand from the muddy ground to peel away the torn sleeve on her right arm, now drenched with blood, trying to see how bad it was, but then Bronn was hauling her to her feet. She waited for him to berate her, but instead he yelled,

“What are you doing with your arse on the ground? Get moving, you lazy cunt!”

He shoved her forward, toward the fight again. Brienne was slightly shocked but also felt something warm settle unexpectedly in her chest when she realised he didn’t just not berate her for fighting, he told her to hurry up and get back to fighting. It wasn’t what she expected at all.

Brienne gripped her sword and ran forward to catch a downward stroke before it bit into the shoulder of one of her own men.

They saw off the attackers efficiently and viciously. None escaped alive. Her own men had only minor wounds. The cut on her arm was probably the worst injury received.

She directed the cleanup of the bodies, then made her way back to her room. Bronn followed her. She deliberately ignored him, but as the adrenaline quickly faded, she was starting to shiver. Her clothes were soaked through either from the rain or the blood.

When she got back to her room she was starting to feel unwell. She reached for the door handle... and somehow she missed it. The floor rushed up at her but the impact never came - Bronn caught her first.

“I’ll call for the maester,” Bronn said.

“No maester,” Brienne replied savagely.

“Alright, alright, no maester,” Bronn grunted, hauling her back to her feet and maneuvering her through the door and into the closest chair.

Brienne sank down gratefully.

“You lost a few pints of blood, I reckon,” Bronn said, wasting no time in tearing her sleeve away from the tunic completely and snatching up another of her shirts from the floor to tie firmly around the wound.

“I feel fine,” Brienne grumbled. Bronn just rolled his eyes. He finished tying off the makeshift bandage and fetched her some wine. Then he brought the basin of water and the cloth over and knelt beside her to wipe the streaks of blood from her arm, and the spatters from her face.

“What does anyone want to off you for, anyway?” he asked.

Brienne shrugged. “I’m sure it would be easier for the Lannisters if I was no longer a factor. They want to kill me and take Jaime’s son.”

Bronn pushed her hair back out of her face gently to wipe at her temple.

“Why do you do that?” he murmured.

“What?”

“Call him ‘Jaime’s son’. He’s your son too.”

Brienne didn’t reply for a moment. She watched Bronn’s face as he concentrated on his task. “There’s no use, Bronn.”

He paused and his gaze shifted to her eyes. “No use with what?”

“I know what you’re doing. Trying to fix me. There’s no point.”

Bronn brushed his thumb over her cheek, too softly to be clearing any more blood. “You’re not broken, love.”

“I am,” Brienne said with half a rueful smile. “And I know you’re just trying to fulfil your promise, but… Just stop, alright?” She grasped his hand. “Just stop.”

Bronn returned her gaze steadily for several moments before he leaned closer and pressed his lips softly to her forehead. “I’ll stop when I fucking want to stop,” he said in a kind voice, and stood to take the basin and cloth away, and Brienne sat frozen in place from the gesture she hadn’t expected at all, heat flooding her cheeks.

 

Bronn investigated the bodies and the rowboats the next morning and came back to Brienne with the determination that the men had come from a Lannister bannerman, Lord Reyshaw.

It felt like the signal that Brienne had been waiting for.

Later that evening, she packed a bag and snuck out, down to the stables, while everyone else was at dinner. She was quite sure no one had noticed her leave - except that, of course, Bronn was leaning against the stable door, waiting for her, when she led her horse out of the stall.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

Brienne steeled herself. “I’m going after Lord Reyshaw.”

“I see.” Bronn stood casually examining his nails but still blocking the exit.

“Are you going to stop me?” Brienne asked, her voice steely.

“Aye, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he drawled. “You know very well if it came to a fight, you’d win. You’re younger and stronger than me.”

“I’m very happy to oblige,” Brienne said through her teeth, reaching for her sword hilt.

“I’m not-” Bronn sighed in frustration. “Stop acting like I’m trying to control you all the time. I’m not your fucking father. I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Brienne growled, and Bronn pushed off the wall and stepped closer to her.

“About _this._ Why are you leaving?”

“There’s nothing for me here,” Brienne said flatly.

_“Nothing…”_ Bronn huffed in exasperation. “You highborn lot are all spoiled brats, you know? I thought you were the sensible one, but turns out you’re just as bad as Jaime. You wouldn’t know _nothing_ if it hit you in the fucking face.”

“If you’re going to _insult_ me-”

“What about little Jaime? You’re his mother.”

“I’m not. I’m not a mother. I’m not a parent. I can’t _do it,_ Bronn.” Her voice was getting louder.

“That’s not it,” Bronn said.

“I- what?”

“Leave if you want. Fine. But don’t lie about why you’re doing it.”

“I’m not _lying.”_

Bronn jabbed a finger into her chest. “You’re saying you can’t do it, it’s too hard. Sorry, but that’s not you. You’ll do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen it enough times.”

Brienne was speechless.

“You just can’t look at him because of your grief. That’s _all._ You just need to give it time. I _promise,_ love. I know how this works. You’re in the middle of it now, but it does get better.”

“You don’t understand,” Brienne said coldly. Bronn just rolled his eyes.

“I understand, alright. You’ve think I’ve never lost anyone? I understand a lot better than you know. Jaime-” Bronn cut himself off with a huff and shook his head. “I know you feel betrayed. I know you feel angry, so angry that you don’t think you’ll ever _breathe_ normally again. I know you feel alone. But you’re not alone. Not anymore.” He reached out and grasped her hand and Brienne looked down at it with wide eyes, then back up at him, and she felt the stirring of doubt - maybe he was right? - but the impact of doubt simply served as fuel for her stubbornness, and she shoved it down viciously. Who did Bronn think he was, trying to tell her what to do and how to think? What did he know about her grief? Nothing.

She pulled her hand away and grasped the reins, tugging the horse towards the doors.

Bronn stood aside. He didn’t try to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the comments so far! Let me know what you think of this chapter ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Brienne stumbled to her hands and knees and threw up on the forest floor.

She had become very good at not thinking about certain things in the past year, but what she had done inside that holdfast had more of an impact on her than she expected.

Months had passed since she left Tarth. It took a long time for one person to travel discreetly across Westeros, particularly now that inns and smaller villages were rare. Wights could appear at any time (although their numbers were finally starting to thin) and, more dangerous, gangs of robbers and highwaymen were common. She had left several corpses behind on her journey, both warm and cold ones, but nothing could compare to what she’d just done after arriving at Reyshaw’s holdfast.

She got to her feet; she needed to keep moving. The keep was on the top of a hill and she’d left her horse tied up all the way at the bottom. She needed to get back, to escape.

To be fair, they had tried to kill her first. Not even counting the attacks on Tarth. When she arrived, she made her way up to the portcullis and demanded an audience with Lord Reyshaw. Jaime’s voice was whispering in her head that this was a stupid idea, but she shoved him viciously down. This was the  _ honourable _ thing to do.

Unfortunately, honourable tactics only work when both parties abide by them.

She knew that. In her head, Jaime was saying ‘I told you so’. She told him to shut up and stumbled forward, down the steep hill, gripping the tree trunks for support as she went, knowing in the back of her mind that she was leaving smears of blood everywhere, a clear trail for her pursuers to follow, but she wouldn’t have been able to cover ground at all, elsewise.

She was nearby where she left her horse; at least she thought so. She stumbled to a halt and looked around. The trees didn’t look familiar. 

A branch cracked and she spun around; her pursuers had caught up. 

“Do you want to die?” she demanded raggedly, drawing her sword again, as three men emerged from the trees, watching her like she was a wild animal.

“It’s three to one,” one of them shot back at her. Brienne stood still, waiting for them to attack, letting them circle around her; knowing it was pointless.

“If you attack me, you will die, just like all your kinsmen. Save yourselves; flee.”

The men weren’t buying it. Brienne sighed and brought her sword up as they closed in. 

The first man died with a gurgle of blood as it spilled from his throat. Brienne tried not to look, turning to the other two.

“Yield!” she demanded, almost desperately. “Yield and I’ll let you go.”

They ignored her, and charged forward, two at once. It didn’t make a difference.

She was almost disgusted with herself - no, she was definitely disgusted with herself for the carnage she was leaving behind.

“Brienne-”

A voice behind her. She spun to attack without thinking. The assailant barely got his sword out and up in time to block her downward swing. 

He was yelling at her, but she could barely hear him - she didn’t  _ want _ to hear yet another voice just before she silenced it, cutting the man’s life short. She thrust forward again, trying to drive him back, but he sidestepped forward lithely, inside the range of her sword, grabbing her hands, trying to dislodge her grip. They scuffled. It felt familiar. 

And then he moved even closer and pressed his lips to hers. It jolted her. She was shocked. She shoved him backwards, hard, and he stumbled two steps and caught himself. He was  _ grinning _ at her, and she was breathing hard. She advanced on him again with the intention of knocking him into the mud. She grasped the front of his tunic hard for that purpose, but once she was there and so close to his eyes - blue eyes - she froze. He tilted forward and she knew he was going to kiss her again, and it was  _ wrong,  _ it was a betrayal of Jaime - but it wasn’t, because hadn’t he asked them to do exactly this? - and he was kissing her again and she let him.

And then her sword slipped out of her hand and Bronn took several steps backwards, holding her weapon, watching her carefully.

“Wh - what are you doing?”

“Trying to snap you out of it,” he said harshly. “You almost killed me.”

Brienne blinked several times as she felt the red haze fading from her vision and she suddenly felt  _ exhausted _ . “I don’t… I… that’s my sword,” she said dumbly, pointing at it.

Bronn took another step back, and she was surprised to see actual apprehension in his eyes. She stopped. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You almost did,” he replied.

She struggled to comprehend his almost wounded expression. “Why did you  _ kiss _ me?” she demanded.

“Worked, didn’t it?” he shrugged. “You’re back.”

“I didn’t  _ go _ anywhere.”

“You sure as hell did, love. I don’t know who that was, but I don’t want to meet her again.”

Brienne took a deep breath through her nose and tried not to acknowledge how much that scared her. She held out her hand. “Can I have it back?”

Bronn hesitated. “Are you going to try to kill me again?”

_ “No,” _ she exclaimed. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just… just-”

“Angry,” he said, and held the sword out.

She took two steps towards him and retrieved it. “Yes,” she admitted. “Bronn, I - at the castle, I did some things- I don’t think I should have done that. I don’t - it was-” she cut off, alarmed to feel a lump growing in her throat.

“You did what you set out to do, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“They tried to kill you first. It’s self defence.”

Brienne screwed her face up. “But if you  _ saw _ what I did-”

“I did see it,” Bronn cut in. “I went up to the keep first, then followed the trail back down here. You killed plenty of men, aye.”

“Too many men,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t necessary. I-”

“You didn’t kill women, did you? Or children? You didn’t deliberately stab the men in the stomach, did you, so that it would take longer for them to die? You didn’t burn down their keep, or piss in their grain store, did you?”

“Well, no-”

“Then you’re already much more honourable than most noble fucking lords in your position. Just remember that.”

Brienne closed her mouth and let Bronn’s words wash over her. She felt the tight grip around her heart loosen slightly. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, sheathing his own sword. Brienne nodded and followed him. She could barely focus on where they were going. She just put one foot in front of another, following Bronn’s heels. They arrived back at her horse; his was tied up to the same tree. They mounted up, and Bronn wordlessly took her reins and tied them to his saddle, leading her horse behind his.

 

Brienne jolted awake. Three days had passed. She had been ill; she wasn’t sure what it was. She had been exhausted, for one thing, and she could barely eat. And then they had boarded a ship bound for King’s Landing, and as she awoke now, she knew they had arrived. The boat had anchored. And she could already  _ smell _ the place.

There was a knock on her door and Bronn entered a moment later. “We’re here. Come on, get your things.”

Brienne sat up, rubbing her eyes, and reached for her small bag. “You still haven’t explained why we’re here.”

“You’ve been too bloody sick for me to explain anything,” he said wryly. “Didn’t you grow up on an  _ island?  _ How have you never been on a boat before?”

“I wasn’t seasick,” Brienne said through her teeth, pulling her tunic over her head. “I was just sick.”

Bronn smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I  _ wasn’t-” _

“Hurry up, love, we haven’t got all day.”

Brienne blew air out through her cheeks in annoyance as he disappeared from her doorway. She quickly finished getting dressed and making sure she hadn’t left anything behind in the small cabin, then she made her way out and up on deck, The sight and sounds and  _ smell _ of King’s Landing was like a punch to the face as she emerged on deck, looking up toward the city, and she tried to filter it all out. Bronn was already down the gangplank and on the jetty. Once again, she just concentrated on following behind him as he led her into the city.

She expected the homeless, the maimed, the beggars, the destitute - she was prepared for them. It wasn’t her first time here. She knew she had to steel herself against the awful city. But as they made their way through the streets, she was struck hard by the  _ lack _ of those things. No homeless - no beggars. The streets were clean. The market was thriving. The children were playing happily.

Bronn was watching her with a poorly concealed smirk as he turned down a nice street and then paused at the front gate to an expensive estate. He tugged on the bell.

“Who are we visiting?” Brienne asked, confused by his expression. Bronn didn’t reply, but a moment later a footman opened the gate and smiled when he saw them.

“My Lord Bronn, welcome home.”

Brienne’s jaw dropped as Bronn thrust his chest out and strode through into the beautiful gardens fronting a large, tastefully lavish house. House wasn’t really the right word. Mansion? It was two story, with large balconies on the upper floor, ivy creeping down the side and surrounded by trees. Brienne paused in the middle of the walkway to look at it and Bronn watched her, clearly almost bursting with pride.

“It’s no castle, but still,” Bronn shrugged.

“It’s beautiful,” Brienne said sincerely. He smiled broadly, genuinely, and tucked her arm in his, leading her forward. 

“Come on. Someone’s waiting to see you.”

Bronn led her inside. His household staff clearly all loved him; they were very happy to see him home. She trailed after him, through an entrance hall and into a parlour. When they entered, Brienne was shocked to see Sara sitting in there opposite Tyrion, and in his arms, little Jaime.

She was even more shocked when the boy, who looked twice as big as when she last saw him, brightened up as they walked through the door and held his arms out and yelled out a word in a gurgly child’s voice - it came out like ‘Bonn’, but it was clear what he meant. 

Bronn laughed and scooped him up. Brienne found her feet frozen to the floor.

“He - he spoke,” she said blankly.

“Aye, just before I left, he started,” Bronn said, pressing his lips to the boy’s forehead. “He’s so clever. Aren’t you clever? What a nice first word, hey?” he grinned over at Brienne and she felt something like pressure in her throat. She never realised he would start talking so soon - then again, she had no idea what age children normally did anything. 

Tyrion got to his feet and stepped across to her hesitantly.

“It’s good to see you again, Brienne,” he said hesitantly, taking note of her shock. She nodded faintly.

“Has he said anything else?” Bronn asked.

“No other words yet,” Tyrion said, glancing back at him. “But I think he will be demanding food before long. He is napping less now, as well.”

They fell into a conversation about Jaime’s progress, and Brienne felt awkward, watching them pass him between them, both so confident, and little Jaime was twice as long, with thick blonde hair, and he looked, if possible, even more like his namesake than before.

“How did he get here?” she asked finally, belatedly realising she had interrupted their conversation. They both paused and looked back at her.

“There was another attack after you left,” Bronn said, sitting Jaime down on the floor and turning his attention back to her. “It was a close one - they were determined. I decided, since you were gone, it was safer to bring him here. This estate is protected by guards, and inside the city nothing happens that your brother-in-law doesn’t know about. Well, him or Varys.”

“No one will touch him while he is here,” Tyrion said, with confidence. “Especially since he is already a favourite of the Queen.”

“He’s met Queen Daenerys?”

“Of course,” Tyrion said with a smile. “She has visited several times. He’s quite the charmer.”

Brienne felt like she needed to sit down.

Bronn called one of his servants in and suggested Brienne be shown to her room. She didn’t argue.

 

Brienne ate well and slept peacefully, all through the evening and night and late into the morning, in the comfortable bed in the nice room. She liked Bronn’s estate. And the servants were all extremely friendly and cheerful.

Mid-morning, she was still getting dressed when she heard the sounds of visitors arriving. She went downstairs and found Bronn sitting with Tyrion and Varys in the parlour. 

“You look well,” Varys greeted her. Brienne couldn’t remember talking to him specifically before, but they had met once.

“Will you have a seat?” Tyrion asked her. “There are some things to discuss.”

Sara took little Jaime away and the four of them sat around a tray with some pastries and tea.

Varys took a package out from the folds of his robe and lay it carefully on the table. The three of them watched as he unwrapped it from folds of fabric, and when he flicked the last layer away, Brienne drew her breath in sharply.

It was Jaime’s hand - gilded steel, still golden, but old and worn and faded.

She didn’t know what to say. After a moment, Varys spoke. “I have followed the trail behind this… item. It did lead to a definite confirmation.”

“Confirmation…” Brienne breathed, at the same time as Bronn blew air out in a huff.

“That’s it, then,” he said, with resignation. 

Tyrion bowed his head.

“You mean - you mean-” Brienne couldn’t bring herself to say it. “You mean you can say for  _ certain _ , he-”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to. Varys nodded. “Would you like to hear further details?” he asked delicately.

“Yes,” Brienne said, at the same time as Bronn said “No.”

She looked across at him, surprised, but couldn’t quite catch his expression, because he got quickly to his feet, turning his head. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

He strode out.

Brienne frowned after him. She never thought  _ Bronn _ would have a weak stomach for things like this. Not that she expected to enjoy hearing the details, but she at least wanted to  _ know. _

She turned back to Varys, expectantly.

“He was beset by highwaymen while travelling in a group. They were greatly outnumbered. None were left alive. I have confirmation of Cersei’s death in the same attack; she was a prisoner. The highwaymen took coins and left everything else - scavengers arrived shortly after and took other items, such as this,” he waved at the hand, “to sell in the markets. Highway robberies have became a serious problem in that part of the world; many have suffered the same fate.”

Varys fell into silence and the three of them sat absorbing this information for another minute.

“He went down with a sword in his hand, then,” Tyrion finally said, in an unsteady voice. 

Brienne nodded. She didn’t know how she expected to feel, but she didn’t feel anything particularly. She just felt empty. “Perhaps not as glorious as he would have preferred, but still something,” she said hollowly.

“I hope this knowledge can at least provide some closure,” Varys said gently.

“It does,” Tyrion said.

“Thank you,” Brienne murmured.

Varys gathered up his sleeves and got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to absorb all of this,” he said quietly, and left. Bronn came back in a minute later, a glass of wine in his hand, already three quarters empty.

“So,” he said gruffly, sitting back down.

“I’ll arrange a funeral,” Tyrion said, reaching to take Bronn’s wine from his hand. Bronn let him. Tyrion downed the remainder. “Just a small affair,” Tyrion continued. “Brienne, do you want-”

“You do what you think appropriate,” Brienne said shortly. She didn’t want to be involved in arranging a funeral. She couldn’t think of anything worse.

One of Bronn’s staff arrived a moment later with a pitcher of more wine, and more glasses. Tyrion poured out a fresh glass for each of them and then lifted his.

“To Jaime,” he said. Brienne picked up her glass alongside Bronn and they all drank.

Tyrion sat back. “While we are on the topic of… difficult things to discuss,” he said, watching Brienne, “there is something else.”

“What?” Brienne asked.

“I’d like to discuss little Jaime.”

Brienne tilted her head. “What about him?”

Tyrion took another sip before continuing. “I wish you had told me about him sooner, but I am grateful to have been able to spend so much time with him in the last few months. I hope you can see how much I love that boy. He is really my last living blood relation - all the other Lannisters are far removed. And I intend to deal with them, and their conspiring against you.”

Brienne nodded. Tyrion was talking carefully around something, but she wasn't sure what. “I’m sure you’re aware that even if I do one day marry and have my own children, Jaime will still be the rightful Lannister heir.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve been thinking about what’s best for Jaime,” Bronn put in.

Brienne glanced at him. “What’s best for him,” she repeated dully.

“If he were to… remain here, in King’s Landing, he would be safe,” Tyrion continued, “no one could touch him. In addition, he would be able to get a proper education, befitting his status.” He took a breath. “If you were in agreement, I would be very happy to ward him.”

“Ward him?”

“Take care of him. It isn’t uncommon among noble families, I’m sure you know. I’d treat him like my own son. Bronn would be here as well - you know how much he loves Bronn. Of course, I could never replace his father, or yourself - you could stay here and see him as much as you like, or you could return to Tarth - whatever you like. But wherever you went, you would simply have the peace of mind that he will get the care and attention he needs.”

“You think I won’t-” Brienne cut off, sighed. “You’re  _ concerned _ I won’t do that… give him care and attention.”

“I’m not making any accusations,” Tyrion said quickly. “Not at all. I’m just offering an… option. You don’t have to answer now. You can take all the time you like to think about it.”

The implication, to Brienne, was clear - if she didn’t want the boy, there were plenty of others who did - others who would love him more, take better care of him, be better guardians. She felt like a piece of dirt. Worse, she knew that in her heart, she couldn’t fault any of them for their opinions. 

They were right.

“I’ll think about it,” she said stiffly.

“Wonderful.”

 

The funeral was held three days later. 

The Great Sept of Baelor was long gone and a replacement stood in its place; people called it the New Sept. Tyrion organised a very small affair - himself, Brienne, Bronn, and also Pod - long-ago knighted and looking like a proper adult, now. Brienne would have liked to greet him properly, but she could barely bring herself to speak throughout the entire affair.

They had no body, of course. Varys had suggested they could put Jaime’s hand on the altar, but Brienne didn’t want to part with it, so they instead stood around an empty altar with only the two funeral stones painted as eyes staring up at the ceiling, and the septon went through the standard rites, reading some short prayers. 

Brienne felt awkward and uncomfortable standing by the empty altar, listening to the septon intoning the words, mostly meaningless to her, and she was starting to think this was a silly idea. Then, once the old man finished, Tyrion took a step forward and put his hand on the edge of the altar and spoke, his gaze directed at the floor.

“Brother. Jaime. You were the only one who was ever kind to me as a child. Any good traits I may have, I owe to you. You were a good person; an honourable person; even if you didn’t believe it yourself.” Tyrion’s voice started to struggle. “I miss you. And I will tell your son so many stories about you it will be as though he knows you, even though he doesn’t. He came into the world as you left it; you just missed each other. It’s not fair. But I’ll try to make up for it if I can. I’ll try. I promise.”

Brienne felt her throat closing up as Tyrion finished his short speech. Pod was already in tears.

“Would anyone else like to say some words?” the septon asked. Brienne shook her head furiously, and glanced over at Bronn, wondering if he might want to - and she was shocked by what she saw. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were wide and he looked up to the ceiling as he shook his head no, but the trick didn’t stop the tear that spilled down his cheek. He looked older than she’d ever seen him, and she suddenly felt a painful stab of guilt that she had been so focussed on her own grief this whole time that she’d completely ignored his. She never even realised he felt this strongly - strongly enough to cry, when she doubted he had rarely, if ever, done so in his life. 

Seeing him like that was enough to send her right off, and the tears suddenly came so hard she could barely see where she was going as they made their way slowly from the sept. To her relief, Bronn grasped her arm, tucking it into his, tugging her close. He didn’t let go of her as the group slowly walked back through the streets; as Pod and Tyrion paused at an intersection to say a somber farewell for the day; as they returned to Bronn’s estate.

They didn't go indoors; not quite yet. Brienne pulled her arm free and went across the grass in front of the house to a bench seat, slumping down. She wanted some time to get herself together. Bronn trailed after her and sat heavily on the other end of the bench. After a moment battling with indecision, she followed her instinct and slid closer to him. He lifted his arm automatically, settling it around her as she turned her face into his shoulder. They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the sound of birds and insects and the city beyond. Finally, Brienne felt the tears start to slow and dry up. Her throat felt like it might actually function again.

She was relieved that Bronn didn't try to make her talk as she composed herself. But then, she was now quite certain he felt the grief as strongly as she did. 

Which, still, was surprising.

And then he said something that made her even more confused.

“I held Jaime exactly like this once,” he said, almost flippantly, in a slightly hoarse voice.

Brienne leaned back to look up at him. When he caught her expression, he gave a small shrug. “After Myrcella died and we were on the boat, on the way back here. He was… really upset.”

Brienne felt cogs turning inside her brain as she absorbed this information, along with the way Bronn had been acting recently.

“Were you… were you in love with Jaime?” she asked suddenly.

Bronn didn’t react straight away. He paused a moment, his expression giving nothing away. “I didn’t say that,” he said, clearly attempting to inject some sarcasm into his voice, but it didn't quite work. Her eyes widened. 

“Did you  _ sleep _ with Jaime?”

“Brienne,” Bronn said, trying for a reasonable tone, but the slight waver in his voice betrayed him.

“You  _ did,” _ she said, sitting back from him. She felt shocked, but several things also suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

“Don’t - don’t be angry-”

“I’m not angry, I just…” Brienne paused. Was she angry? It wasn’t exactly anger she felt. Surprise, perhaps. Confusion, definitely. “When?”

“A long time ago. Long before he was with you.”

“I…” Brienne hesitated. “I didn’t know he liked men.”

“He didn’t,” Bronn replied. 

Brienne squinted at him, even more confused. 

Bronn smiled gently, his eyes losing focus for a moment, then he shrugged. “He just liked me,” he said. “He was in a bad way, he just needed some comfort. That’s all it was.”

Brienne didn’t quite believe him. And the other thing was - “I didn’t know  _ you _ liked men.”

“Oh, I’m not very picky,” he said with a faint grin.

Brienne took this in with a flat expression and then groaned. “It all makes sense now,” she said, dragging a hand over her face. “ _ This _ was why he made us make that stupid promise - he’d already had both of us so he thought we’d be -  _ compatible _ -”

Bronn laughed. “Maybe. Sounds like the kind of complex, well-thought-out plan Jaime would come up with.”

Brienne snorted loudly then laughed at herself, and Bronn laughed with her, and it felt like something shifted. Something in the way she felt. Jaime was gone - she was sad. She missed him. But she  _ knew _ he was gone. She felt like, for the first time in months, her mind opened up. She could think about the future; what was she going to do? Not just in the next few days, which had been the extent of her mental resources until now - what was she going to do in the next weeks, months, years? She had some thinking to do. 

She needed to decide what she was going to do with her life. And with Jaime's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. As always, let me know what you think, I appreciate all comments! At least one chapter to go, possibly two, although I don't exactly know what will happen yet!! XD


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